Break the Shell
by rockstarotaku
Summary: Arthur and Oliver are tired of being insulted and hated by everybody. When one of them had enough and takes a drastic action, the two end up meeting each other in a parallel universe. As they figure out how to return to their own worlds, will Arthur and Oliver learn to cope up with their insecurities and find comfort in each other before their sanity snaps?
1. Trouble

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya

* * *

Arthur kept peeking at his watch while sitting in the world meeting. He knew that he should be paying attention to the discussion, but after trying for the eighth time that day only to end up staring off into oblivion, he mused it was a lost cause and opted on counting the remaining time. Right now, there were sixty three minutes and twenty five seconds left.

God, was he tired. Arthur had spent the last three weeks in his boss's house and didn't get a wink of sleep. Just his luck that the countries had decided to hold the meeting the day after his trip had ended, further denying him the time to rest properly. Fortunately, the meeting was held at his place so he didn't need to rush to the nearest airport and fly off to another country looking like a walking corpse. Arthur barely managed to get six hours of sleep that day, including the continuous interruption of the people from the office ringing him up every couple of hours. He was starting to wish that he hadn't slept at all as the interruptions had only given him a pounding headache, which had been threatening to form for a couple of days.

'Just end it already' Arthur thought, as he forced his eyes to stay open. His senses had apparently betrayed him because he found himself being jerked awake from the noises. Good thing he had ended his presentation by volunteering to go first, deciding that was the best option to ensure he wouldn't be spouting nonsense in his drowsiness.

Excluding his sleepy state, another factor that prevented Arthur from being attentive was the arguing nations. As Japan was explaining about strengthening his trade with South Asia, the other countries had found something to fight about. _Again_. This time, it had started with Italy flailing his arms around to emphasize whatever he was talking about and ended up hitting Ethiopia face flat, sitting to his right. The country had interpreted the action as a personal attack and tried to hit the Italian back, muttering obscenities under his breath, only to be stopped by Greece who had reeled the Italian back just in time to prevent the fist from greeting his face. Albania was quick to come to Italy's defense and started insulting Ethiopia for jumping to conclusions, while Turkey and Serbia had taken the other nation's side and fought back. Currently, Germany was trying to calm down both of the parties, as all of their voices combined overpowered the Japanese man's at the front. Japan fruitlessly tried to speak louder in an attempt to be heard, but the attention of the other countries had already swerved away from him.

Arthur sighed as he stopped pretending to listen and welcomed the distraction. Although the petty fights had annoyed him at first, and he had to hold himself back from snapping at the noisy nations for worsening the pain in his head, he concluded that the silly drama wasn't worth his energy. The countries fought over the same bullshit every time, and even though he got caught up in the fights every so often, today wasn't the day. Arthur closed his eyes, knowing fully well that he wouldn't be able to sleep with all the noise going on but trying never did anyone harm.

Just as his headache was starting to dwindle and Arthur found himself relaxing in his chair, to his dismay, the peace was short lived.

"What a rare sight this is. Britain ignoring his duties shamelessly by dozing off without a care in the world, while poor Japan over there can't get anyone to listen to him. I would've thought you were better than this."

"If you feel so bad about it, you are welcome to stop talking to me." Arthur said without bothering to open his eyes. Although he was both emotionally and physically drained, he managed to let out a snarl. "Now piss off, France."

"Looks like someone's in a bad mood. Had a fight with your fairy friends?" France taunted but Arthur chose to ignore him. After not getting a response, France huffed.

"You should be thankful that I even bother talking to you. With that god awful attitude of yours , it's no wonder than no one else does."

"Hey Francey, leave the poor man alone." Arthur finally opened his eyes and saw that America, who was sitting on the other side of the room, had somehow heard their conversation and was currently standing next to both of them with his hands tucked in his pockets. "Being pissy is the only way he can feel better about his miserable life."

Arthur was tempted to correct him about his life not being miserable and he definitely didn't have attitude problem, but held himself for the sake of not starting an argument.

"It's still a wonder to me how he can continue to live in this pathetic state. He barely has any friends, and he doesn't even make the effort to make any. What good is a life without people who care for you." France was casually leaning against the meeting table and had his arms crossed while his right leg extended a little further than his left, and although his sentence made it sound like he was talking to the American, he looked intently at the English nation for some sort of reaction.

"There are plenty of people who will help me if anything happens so your worry is unnecessary." Arthur said, as he locked eyes with the Frenchman to give him his best 'fuck off' glare he could manage in his exhausted condition.

"No, England, real nation friends; not just people you work with. You need actual connections with other nations that will help you when the time comes. You can't continue living like this, being an outcast, cutting connections with everyone around you. Everyone's going to leave you at this rate before you know it."

Was he seriously getting advice from France right now? "I don't remember consulting you about my private matters. My political and personal life is perfectly fine, now bog off. I'm not in the mood to deal with you."

"When exactly are you," France muttered to himself as he stood up, "Suit yourself. Let's go America, it's better to not bother England anymore." America raised an eyebrow at the unusual transaction but went back to his seat without uttering a word.

Arthur let out a sigh for the second time that day and tried to fall asleep but was unable to do so. Stupid France and his equally stupid advices. It didn't matter that he didn't have anyone to rely on, if he was able to survive for so long, what was preventing him from doing the same for the rest of his life?

'Why can't everyone leave me alone?' Arthur thought agitatedly, as the voices of the other countries kept worsening his headache.

* * *

Oliver was sitting in the corner of a pub where the countries had decided to celebrate Italy's birthday: the northern part. He didn't really go to parties, especially to pubs where people had no control over themselves, so he found himself feeling out of place. He was sitting between a passed out Ireland and an intoxicated Canadian who kept gurgling the beer and trying to make bubbles out of it in some sort of one-sided game. Oliver could handle his liquor, but he didn't like drinking as the taste of alcohol turned him off. He preferred sweet things or atleast something with a flavour that didn't make him want to puke. Despite that, he found himself drinking the glass of tequila laid out on the table before him. He hated the taste more it went down his throat but kept drinking for the lack of anything better to do. He had finished his sixth glass for the night by the time everyone around him were drunk out of their minds. The only reason he was on his sixth glass yet was because he had made sure to drink extra slowly, sipping in tiny amounts.

Oliver could only pretend to enjoy the party for so long. He should have just stayed at home and not decided to be all buddies with the rest of the countries. His mood was dampened and the death metal music playing in the background was making his ears bleed. Deciding it was time to go home, he patted the nation beside him in the arm to get the man to look at him.

"Hey Canada, could you tell Italy that I left?"

"Who are you?" The Canadian asked, rotating his head towards Oliver's direction but his eyes weren't entirely on him.

"I'm England. Can y-"

"Oh, the pink haired freak. Who invited him?" Canada said out rather loudly, so the entire place was able to hear him.

"I sure as hell didn't. He came with his own damn permission" Italy, the birthday boy, said from the other side of the room.

"When will that guy learn to take a clue? He's just a nuisance."

"Careful buddy, don't want to end up being his next target, do you?"

Laughter erupted from all the corners and Oliver really wished he hadn't come. He choked down a sob and left hurriedly without saying a word more to anyone. Just as he exited the place, tears automatically started flooding his face and he found himself dropping to the floor and crying with his face tucked between his knees. Thank god, it was middle of the night and no one was outside to stare at his pleading state.

Why was he so weak? Oliver asked himself as he finally managed to calm down and let out a few sniffles followed by some coughs. His face was wet and red, partly from drinking but mostly from crying, and he had to wipe his tears on his shirt sleeves as his hands were already covered with moisture. This wasn't even the worse things they had said about him, so why were their words hurting him more than they did before? The question was rhetorical, of course, he knew why. He had been feeling a bit melancholy the whole night and their words had added fuel to fire.

As he continued to stare at the black sky, he found his sadness quickly transforming into anger the more he reminisced about the event. it's not like he had been desperate to go either, it was his boss who had specifically told him to go to the party and make allies. Oliver prided himself on his country's extravagant pubs despite not being a drunk himself, and when Italy had announced his birthday party being held at his place, his boss had desperately urged him to take the opportunity. Not only did he found himself unable to talk to anyone for the whole night, (he got turned down every time he tried to) making him feel like an awkward mess, but he got ridiculed in front of everyone when he was already feeling like crap.

Oliver clawed at his hair and let out a hoarse scream in frustration. Italy, Canada, his boss, everyone, they can all go to hell, he didn't care anymore. They wanted him gone and so he will since the feeling was mutual. Not wasting another second, Oliver stood up and went towards his car. Throughout the drive, his anger hadn't subsidized and he had to pull himself together from accelerating at top speed from sheer agony. A car accident would do the trick as well, but he couldn't bring himself to ruin anyone's day, except his own.

As Oliver reached his house, he bolted straight into the study and within minutes found the item he was looking for. He took the lid of the poison bottle but stopped to think for the last time about what he was about to commit.

Was he drunk?

Maybe a little bit.

Would he regret this in the morning?

If he didn't die, surely.

Did he _really_ want to do this or was it just his anger acting?

The anger had been the final push, but he had been wanting to do this for quite some time now.

Could he even die?

Only one way to find out.

Oliver clutched the bottle firmly in his hands despite the trembling. Maybe he should stop this right now and think it through tomorrow when he wasn't drunk. His anger would fade away and who knows tomorrow might not be so bad.

'No, it will be just as bad' Oliver thought grimly. That was what he always said to convince himself from committing suicide. Even the thought of the word sent shivers down his spine. As bad as suicide was with humans, the word was taboo for nations. You did not think of suicide, let alone think about acting on suicide. Yet here Oliver was, with poison in his hands, ready to commit the forbidden act. He felt like a daredevil in a twisted way and grinned to himself. No nation had the guts to do what he was about to, only him. He had to do this. Nothing would change if he didn't. A happy ending never came despite the thousand fantasies playing inside his mind about a better tomorrow, those were just his delusional thoughts.

At last, his resolve was final and he brought the toxic drink to his lips, not leaving a single trace of the liquid. His thoughts started to run a marathon at the realization that he might die anytime soon. There was one thought that stood out the most as it kept repeating itself over.

'Please, don't let there be a tomorrow."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** No matter how many times I write it, this scene will always be emo af. I freaking wrote this at 4 AM so please tell me if I made some stupid mistakes, which I'm pretty sure I made plenty of. Was this good or bad, I have no clue, please tell me what you think. I plan on updating this twice a week and I hope to finish this before I die of a cringe attack again.


	2. Freaks

**So, I'm horrible with updating on time. I'm not even going to pretend I can keep up with my own schedule cause I can't. I'll try to update as frequently as I can but I'm not putting a time limit again.**

* * *

As the meeting ended, all the countries dispersed to catch their flights or return to the hotel rooms they had booked for the day. Arthur rushed out of the meeting room to catch the nearest bus. Usually he preferred walking back home as it allowed him time to enjoy the rack-rattle of the city, but he thought it better to take the bus today. While waiting at the bus stand with a couple of other people, his mind wandered off into nothingness. Arthur found himself being unable to focus on anything, as his body and mind were demanding urgent rest. Teleportation was starting to sound like a nice superpower to have with every passing second.

"Oh my god, mister, your mouth is bleeding." Came a feminine screech from his side. He turned to see a teenager, judging by her clothes and hair, staring with widened eyes while her hands covered her mouth. It took him a while to register that she wasn't looking at a random stranger but at him. To confirm her exclamation, he brought a hand to his lips and sure enough, his fingers were covered with the red liquid. He looked down to see his white shirt (which wasn't his best decision to wear that day) sprayed with blood stains and he discerned some drops on his chin by wiping the palms on either cheek.

'That's strange' Arthur thought, as he twirled his tongue inside the roof of his mouth and then at every other angle. He couldn't feel the metallic taste that he was expecting to find. His mouth gave the usual taste of saliva and bitterness from the cucumber sandwich he had eaten that afternoon, yet no hint of blood. Even the blood on his hands felt peculiarly alien, like it wasn't his, but that made no sense. The clearly wet liquid on his hands felt like air; his skin rejected the sensation eventhough his mind and eyes were clearly seeing something in front of him. Arthur decided that he should wash up in a restroom nearby and figure out what was happening later. He probably had an allergic reaction to something he ate that day.

Arthur was about to tell the girl that he could manage and she didn't need to worry, when suddenly he found himself unable to breath. Arthur clutched his shirt as the tightening around his chest began to worsen. It felt like someone tightened a rope around his lungs and was pulling at it fiercely, pushing all the air out. His heart was beating rapidly and he felt an immense need to cough badly eventhough his throat was dry as a drought.

"Are you alright? Should I call an ambulance?" The same girl from before said to him in a panicked voice, bringing him back from his thoughts. She had her phone out and her arm stretched near her ear in an awkward fashion, as if not knowing which action to take. Arthur looked around and saw that the few other people standing were also gazing intently at him, like they always did when something out of place happened, and it made Arthur gulp down the blood filled saliva in surprise.

He didn't know what was wrong with him, and eventhough it seemed pretty bad, he couldn't let the ambulance take him. Nations were not allowed to get involved with hospitals and doctors that weren't directly working with the government in case of letting out their identity by mistake.

"N..o I'm...fine" Arthur managed to let out, as he made an escape for somewhere nearby. He hurriedly walked out of the bus stand and tried to find somewhere alone where he could collapse in peace. He needed a place to think about what was happening before he lost control of himself. Arthur managed to run through some less crowded streets (which was a wonder to find in London at anytime) to avoid suspicion. Looking at his state, anyone sane would call the police, and he couldn't let the woodentops be involved.

'Lord no' Arthur thought as his legs started to wobble and he found himself unable to run anymore. Finding a safe looking alley, he crashed onto the floor at the turn. His body toppled to the side at the sudden action and he found himself panting quite heavily. Both of his feet had fallen asleep and apparently his senses had gone numb because he was unable to feel anything at all. He couldn't feel the tightening of his chest, his sore throat or the rapid heartbeat. Nothing, he felt nothing at all. He couldn't feel, hear, smell or taste anything.

And finally the last of his remaining sense betrayed him and Arthur found himself slipping out of consciousness.

* * *

He woke up with a sudden pang in his head. Arthur groaned and stared at the roof once he opened his eyes. Why was it white? The roof at his house was peach coloured. Feeling uncomfortable and out of place, Arthur sat up and looked around.

White, everything was way too white. The room he was in was empty and didn't have windows, it looked like an abandoned lab. 'Still, the place is way too clean', Arthur thought to himself as he ran his hands over the tiled floor. Suddenly, the memories from prior started to flood over and Arthur rushed his hands over himself in a panicked state.

No blood on his white shirt, his chest felt perfectly fine, and his throat didn't have the slightest hint of an itch. Strangely enough, the miserable headache he had been having all day was gone. His head was hurting, but it was more of a temporary cause of waking up in an awkward position than being tired. His body still felt tired, but nothing of the type he had experienced before.

Arthur leapt his arms backwards in an attempt to stand up by pulling himself over, but he found his hands landing on some strange object instead of the plain floor he was expecting. Letting out a surprise yelp, Arthur turned around to see that he had collided with another human. The human's body, not too built but a masculine body nonetheless, was turned away from his sight. Arthur tried shaking him twice with a slight push then a strong one, but the person didn't move a buldge. Standing up and walking around his opposite side, Arthur knelt down to look at the stranger who had his whole face covered with his arm. Arthur tried to remove his hand, not forcibly but not caring to be gentle either, he needed the man to get up in some way. Arthur finally managed to put away his arm with some force.

The stranger looked like him. What?

He looked exactly like Arthur, almost like a carbon copy of him. He had the same nose, same cheekbone shape, even his haircut was the same. Although his hair was more of a pinkish blond compared to Arthur's pale blond mess. His clothes were of a similar colour, and looked like something Arthur would never in his life wear, but they looked pretty normal overall; not too cheap or expensive. And lastly, those god damn eyebrows which were identical to his. Was he a British country, or a former colony? He didn't look like anyone he remembered and Arthur was sure to remember someone who looked that creepily similar to him. A new country? He didn't remember any announcement of a new nation forming. Was the guy even a nation? He could be human for all Arthur knew.

Arthur tried touching the lying man's eyebrows to check if they were real. He felt guilty doing it, remembering his own aversion to being touched suddenly, but he had a pretty legit reason for his actions. As if someone else in his place wouldn't do the same. Just as Arthur tried pulling his left eyebrow, the stranger slapped his hand away, his brows now furrowed while muttering something into the air. Out of all the things, that was what brought him to consciousness?

"Are you awake?" Arthur asked in a quiet voice, just for the stranger to hear. He didn't feel comfortable talking loudly in the foreign room for some reason. As the stranger opened his eyes lazily, Arthur found another difference to separate them two. The stranger's eyes were blue with a tint of, was that pink? Arthur looked closely to search for contacts but found none. It wasn't like the pink was blended with the blue, it stood out as a different colour all together. Whirls of pink and blue surrounded the pupils. "You have weird eyes."

Seeing the stranger start to give an offended look, Arthur swallowed back his words and mentally slapped himself. Great conversation starter. "I didn't mean that in a bad way; I've never seen your shade of irises before. They are peculiar, in a good sense."

"You have very green eyes as well." The stranger said, and looked at him closely. "Why do you look like me?"

"I was hoping to find the answer from you. Do you know where we are?" The stranger looked around, looking lost and flinching a lot, and gave a shake to his head. He then looked at Arthur and gave him a suspicious look.

"Did you kidnap me?"

"Excuse me?" Arthur looked at him incredulously. "Why would I kidnap you?"

"I don't know, maybe the other countries or my boss decided to punish me for" The other person looked down, as he had already given too much away however Arthur's ears only focused on two particular words.

"Did you say other countries? Are you a nation?" The pink haired man stared at Arthur for some time and gave him a slow nod.

"I'm assuming you are too then." Arthur nodded as well. "Did you really not kidnap me?"

"My situation does look compromising but I'm telling the truth. I found myself in this strange room next to you and woke you up to get answers for myself, but I guess you're as clueless as me. Which nation are you? I don't recall seeing you before."

"England, and I don't recognize you either." The pink haired man looked at him. Arthur raised his eyebrow at the answer he received and let out a snort.

"Nice one. You look a little bit similar to me but that's taking it too far."

"I'm not, My name is England, atleast the name of the country which I represent. Does that mean you are called England too?"

Arthur looked at him for some time and eventhough he wanted to call out the other on his lie, he couldn't. This was too coincidental, not with them looking this similar. Not answering the other's question, Arthur stood up and looked around.

"Let's focus on the important stuff right now, which is how to get out of here. I didn't look around since I was too busy waking you up." Arthur said, as he went up to the eastern end. "I see a door there."

The other England stood up as well and followed him after taking a look around of his own, while Arthur struggled to open the door. "Looks like it's locked, maybe we can find something else." Arthur backed up and tried to find another way but soon he heard a clicking sound from his back.

"It's not locked." The pink haired said, and opened the door. "Are you coming?"

"Y-Yeah." Arthur said meekly, and followed him outside.

* * *

'What in the world is this?' Arthur thought, as both of them arrived outside. The room from where they had come, a small portion of a very large house, was located in the middle of the city or wherever they were, because Arthur and the other England found themselves in the middle of a crowdy place. That was not the strangest thing. Everything around them was filled with white and black: from the sky to the streets. When the similar black and white people started to take notice of them, a crowd started to form and several discreet fingers were pointed at the two intruders. As Arthur found someone not-so-friendly-looking try to approach them, his mind jumped to the worst conclusion and he took to flight.

"Let's get out of here." He grabbed the pink haired's hand and dragged him alongside him. Whether the other was a friend or a foe, they both were in danger in this abnormal place. Not looking back, Arthur ran at full speed and ducked through some lonely looking streets. Luckily enough, the passerby were too shocked to do anything so they moved out of the way on their own. When Arthur found a really narrow place, he ducked inside it, pulling the pink haired along with him.

"What are you doing?" The man said, and Arthur put a hand on his mouth to get him to quieten down. Arthur hadn't heard any footsteps nearby so he assumed that they were safe for a little while. No one would be able to find them from far away, but if they got close enough, the two weren't easy to be camouflaged.

Arthur rubbed a hand on his forehead. There should be a limit on how much one can run in a day. He needed to relax but moreover he needed to think rationally. What exactly was happening?


	3. Explanations

Silence had enveloped them as the two sat motionlessly in the little space. Their breathing, which had been shut to the mute volume in fear of someone coming across their way, had gradually increased to a normal pace. Even without the weird fiasco that took place, Arthur hadn't known to what to ask the other man. Arthur sat, rattling his brain silently, but the English language didn't seem to have enough words to voice his thoughts for the current predicament. What should he even begin to ask when his confusions had further confusions of their own.

"What's your name?" Arthur guessed that was a basic yet rather important question to ask at the moment.

"Oliver Kirkland."

Kirkland, huh, there's no way that he's lying about being a country then. The information of there being personified countries is a secret within the top members of the governments; even then, it's not a foolproof plan to protect the countries' privacies. Leaders change with terms, and you might shut them up politically, stopping them from blabbering on to their spouses and close ones is another matter. There's a reason they were all given rather common names. It might be hard to find which Arthur Kirkland the personification of England is, but it wasn't impossible. To ensure further privacy, only the first names were known to the associates of the government and even the other countries. Surnames were easy to be found and tracked to a certain person with enough investigation, while first names tended to be more common. The only people who knew his full name were Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Northern Ireland (they shared the same last name, so it was rather difficult to hide); America and France.

Scotland, Wales, Ireland and Northern Ireland wouldn't tell because that would also put them in danger, not because they gave a damn about what happened to him. They would gladly spread around his name if it didn't put them in danger as well. America had found out during his colonial days. It was stupid for him to reveal that to the young boy, but he hadn't anticipated the independence at the time so it seemed harmless to him. On the other hand, he also knew America's full name. Alfred F Jones. Alfred given by Arthur after one of his kings 'Alfred the Great', Jones which he chose to call himself after his independence, and F, an extra edition to make the American look 'cool' and 'mysterious' according to his own words. Their names was something they could both use against each other, but it never really came down to that. France, on the other hand, had found out from being close to Scotland. Just like in America's case though, Arthur knew that France was called Francis Bonnefoy. He only remembered that because the idiot had practically blabbered on to him. His name, among other things, was one of the few important information he gave away to the young naïve England who had a memory far above France could have expected. Once Arthur became somewhat of a stronger nation, France had regretted telling him all the juicy details about himself. Let's just say, he held far above France than vice versa, despite some of Arthur's slips in his drunken state. It was a lesson he carried throughout his own life. Never underestimate kids; they will come to expose you when you least expect it.

"What's yours?" Oliver asked, bringing Arthur out of his thoughts. Apparently, he had gone on his inner monologuing again without realising it. The curse of being a lonely man with overloaded thoughts. He had also forgotten the topic of their conversation and looked blankly at the pink haired man for some sort of clue.

"What?"

"Your name. You never told me."

"Oh, sorry, it's Arthur Kirkland." Oliver raised an eyebrow at the answer but kept quiet. It did seem like Arthur was lying, so he wasn't offended by the suspicious look thrown his way.

"Okaaay, Arthur. You have any clue on where we are?" Oliver asked with an emphasis at the 'okay'.

"Yes, I know exactly where this place, that looks it was taken straight out from a noir film, is. I just have a secret kink of hiding between abandoned buildings." He said, and to his surprise, he got a snort like giggle from the pinky. Atleast, someone appreciated his sarcastic sense of humour.

"Sorry, that was a stupid question to ask."

"That's fine. Asking obvious questions might reveal some complex answers. Allow me Oliver, to ask you a stupid question as well." Arthur said, slapping both his hands on Oliver's shoulders and looking him straight in the eye. "Do you believe in magic?"

"Believe in magic?" Oliver repeated dumbfounded, not expecting the out of context question. It was too strayed from their recent conversation. "What kind of belief are you talking about?"

"Do you think magic exists?" Arthur asked, in a stern voice this time.

"Is this a trick question? What do you mean if magic exists, obviously it does." Oliver said, too nervous and cautious of what he was saying. He looked at Arthur to see if he answered what he wanted, but the grip on his upper body hadn't loosened. However, Arthur did let out a thoughtful nod.

"I see, so you must perform magic as well. Which form do you practice?"

"What? No, I mean I know magic exists. I'm not a practitioner myself. Aren't Germany, Spain and Russia the only three countries that can perform magic?" Oliver said, with a confused look. "I can talk to spirits, but that's only as far into the magical world as I'll go."

Germany, Spain and Russia performed magic? The horrors that would have happened to the world if this was true.

Something was clearly not adding up. At first, Arthur had thought that he was dreaming, but with each passing moment, the likeliness of his theory being correct was decreasing. This was a lot more clear and detailed than what dreams felt like, and Arthur definitely didn't remember the last time he questioned himself this much in his dreams. His next guess was that he had summoned himself into one unknowingly. He had done that once. Just his luck that the one time he had tried that, it turned out to be a nightmare. It obviously wasn't a pleasant experience so he saw no need to put himself into that position again. This was definitely not a dream no matter how much he thought about it. His dreams tended to be on the surreal side, and the only thing remotely surreal about the situation was that, talking to Oliver felt they didn't even belong to the same world.

"What's England's position in the political world?" Arthur asked, and Oliver stared at him incredulously. "You represent England, right? Shouldn't you be able to answer that with ease?

"It's alright, I suppose. England has always been one of the weakest countries but we manage." That was not the case at all.

"What about the war in the past several centuries?"

"Pardon? Wah-er, what's that?" Oliver blinked at him and Arthur had to raise an eyebrow at his response.

"You know, big battles where people fight to death and thousands of people die until one side wins." Oliver looked at him in horror for his description for the supposed 'war'.

"That sounds horrifying. Why would you ever take part in that?"

"Nevermind that for now. If I'm not wrong, I think we're both from different worlds. That's the only answer that makes sense to me."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Oliver agreed with a nod. "You look and talk very different from the people I'm used to. And this place is really peculiar from what I've ever seen in my life. It looks like someone washed all the colours away."

"Indeed. It seems like we have ended up on some estranged world different to our own. Now I'm not sure about the magic assertion I made before. I've never heard of magic that allows you to travel between different worlds. In my world, that is."

"It's the same where I'm from. Magic is limited to what you know. Travelling between worlds would mean you have to know beyond the unknown, and a solution to that hasn't been found out yet, despite the numerous researches on it. I'm not too familiar with the magic stuff, so there might be a loophole to that."

"Atleast, it couldn't be your doing." not from what he just told me. He could be lying but I have bigger problems to solve. I'll just have to chose to believe him for now. Arthur thought but didn't utter the words. "Our worlds seem to have something in common. And somehow even with all the differences, we are perfectly able to communicate with each other. Very strange"

"It's kind of weird." Oliver said, and spoke out again after a moment of silence. "You just said you can perform magic, right?"

"Hmmm? oh yes."

"Can't you do something about our situation so we don't have to hide here anymore? I'm slightly tired of crouching if you couldn't tell." Oliver said, pointing towards his current state.

"I was thinking somewhere along those lines. Although,It's been a while since I've performed magic so it might be a bit wonky. I might have to perform a couple of spells to get the right effect. Do you remember how the people looked like?"

"They were black and white?"

"I mean in detail. I need you to describe it to me step by step so I can turn you into a replica. Make sure the person you are describing is a male."

"Where should I start then? the hair?"

"Wherever you do, just don't talk to me in the middle of it; I need to be in complete concentration for this. Try to not mess up in your describing or we're going to be in serious trouble. "

"No pressure." Oliver said, letting out a shaky breath. "Well, I'm not sure the person I saw was a male or not. He looked pretty manly to me but they could've been a masculine lady. Maybe they don't even have sexes here, how am I supposed to know. it's a different world, anything's possible."

"Oliver, not the time" Arthur said, stopping the pink haired from his frantic babbling. "We need to get serious here. You can think about their genitalia after we're done. Just define the manliest looking person you saw in the crowd."

"It's your fault for putting this much pressure on me. I'm not good with talking in the first place, and now you're telling me that I've to get this down perfectly or we're screwed?"

"I shouldn't have made it sound so intimidating, my mistake. We'll only have to start from the beginning if you get it wrong. It's better if you don't, but nothing serious is going to happen. Relax and let's do it from the start, shall we?"

"Well, the man I saw had a big face with a broad chin. His skin was silvery grey in colour with dark grey to mark the rough patches on his cheeks and around his nose. His lips were grey and chapped, black in the middle with streaks of white splattered in some places. His eyes were small like beads, and I imagine they were black. I didn't get to see it clearly, but it certainly was a dark colour. His ears were small and pointy: Light grey at the ends and dark grey in the middle. His nose was pointy and sharp. He had thin eyebrows. His hair was black and slicked back. The rest of his body was hidden underneath a black suit with grey stripes. His shirt was white and adorned by a black tie. His boots were black, and oh, I think he had short and rough hands."

That was more than Arthur had anticipated. "How long were you even looking at him? There's no way you got all that from glancing at him for five-six seconds."

"I was really shocked so I did end up analyzing him way too much. I can be very observant when I want to be."

"That's good. The spell should be taking place any second now." Just as he finished his sentence, Oliver started to change into the image he just described. There wasn't any magical aura surrounding him, but his form started to change in the order he had described the man: from his face to the hands. Within a few seconds, he had changed into a complete different person, slightly intimidating looking to Arthur.

As Oliver opened his mouth to say something, he changed into his previous self completely and fell back at the sudden body mass change.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so." Oliver sat up and as soon as he did, he started going through a transformation again. His face started to change, just like when Arthur had initially performed the spell, and it made Arthur concerned. 'Did I do something wrong?

When the transformation was complete, instead of turning into a different person, Oliver had turned into a monochrome version of himself. They both sat for a minute, staring each other down in confusion at what just took place.

"Was that supposed to happen?"

"No. That's strange. This has never happened before."

"I turned back into my normal self, didn't I? I feel the same." Oliver said, opening and closing his hands and looking at his feet, legs, his stomach and finally his face by feeling it around. "What a pity, I didn't get to see how successful I was at describing the man perfectly."

"I'm more confused about what happened. However, it did turn you into one of them, so I think our job here is done. Let's hope the magic isn't faulty at other places." Arthur said, as Oliver kept staring at himself. "Stay still, I need to replicate myself into you. "

Oliver did as he was told, and Arthur quickly copied himself. They really did look alike, didn't they? Oliver thought as he saw the colours on Arthur fade away.

They waited for a few seconds but nothing happened this time.

"Unless the people here had observation as sharp as yours, we should be safe for now. Let's look around and possibly find a way to get out of here." Arthur said, standing up and moving out of the small space he was sitting in for, what, hours now?

"You think it's safe for us to get out there?" Oliver asked, looking out of the alley "Nobody's around, it would look pretty suspicious if we just appeared out of nowhere."

"You're right, we need to find other people as soon as possible and merge into them."

"Ummm Arthur?"

"What is it? You don't think that's a good idea?"

"No, nothing like that. It's actually a really random question but I was wondering what a noir film is. I remember you mentioning it before, but I wasn't sure whether to ask you or not."

Arthur turned towards Oliver, and looked at him straight with seriousness in his eyes.

"Once we figure out this mess, you and I have a lot to talk about."

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Thank you so much to anyone who takes the time to follow/favourite or review, it makes my day even if you don't know it. Seriously, you guys have been so supportive, I love all of you.


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